


Ascension

by AntivanCrafts



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, god reimagining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntivanCrafts/pseuds/AntivanCrafts
Summary: A reimagining of the Dragon Age cast as gods, based upon a similar tumblr post





	1. Chapter 1

the warden is not actually the name of one god, but a title shared among a group, and their individual origins’ differences impact the way their stories are sung or whispered. they are just as often worshipped as psychopomps, carriers of the dead to the afterlife, as they are a source of comfort and guidance for those who had to grow up too soon; whether to war or illness or abuse or the loss of a parent or a thousand other personal stories that can fit within two syllables. warden. guard and guardian, those who sacrifice everything in order to carry the hope for others. how much more can i give? ask the weary and the grieving. _ “always at least once more,” _ say the wardens. _ “one more inch, one more battle. and then one day you will look up to see you have walked a thousand miles in single steps.” _

in many ways, alistair fits what some call the classic ideal of a demigod; an isolated youth spent unknowing of his true parentage, one that made him humble and hungering for true respect. many turn to him for this reason alone, including orphans and the abused. many more sing his name in the dark times of their lives because of what came after that- a lifetime living with a brain that operated just a few steps to the left of the rest of humanity. a life filled with doubt and grief and loss, one filled with moments in which he could have given up. but he didn't, and he didn't, and he kept on finding beauty amid the horrors of war and the heartsick times of rebuilding that come after. _“it seems so much easier to lie down and die,”_ he whispers to those who chose him, _“but there is work to be done, and you can do it. but not alone. you are never alone where i can walk with you. when you chose me, i chose you. you earned a hand in the dark. all you need to do is reach out and hold tight.”_

morrigan is a goddess in flux. in one aspect, she is a goddess of magic and of vengeance, of turning your pain outward to protect yourself when no one else can, has, or will. some say the doubters are the hopeful who've had their hopes dashed time and again, and that both is and isn't true with morrigan- she would insist to anyone who cared to ask that hers is the domain of realism, of looking at a harsh world and seeing truth. all the same, morrigan looks kindly on abused children and adults, on the lonely and broken hearted. she is a goddess who will rarely reach out first, until she knows she can trust there to be someone ready to catch her, too. in her second aspect, morrigan is the protector that she never had: a mother. she has learned that trust now, if has yet to lose all of the wariness that came before it. that wariness bleeds away when she recognizes one of her own, one she might not walk in front of, but has no issues walking beside. _“the world may not be brighter for my presence,”_ says morrigan’s voice at her pilgrim’s ear, _“but i will ensure that the night’s terrors have good reason to fear us back. it is my turn to give back the courage you kept inside, the same way i did. you have me, and i have you. that might not seem like much, but i would say it's a damn good start.”_

 

leliana is yet another goddess who is underestimated by many. she's seen as a minor deity favored in the cities and temples belonging to the rich and comfortable, which she often is. however, thinking that is all there is to one who began her existence as a death goddess would be a mistake, one that some only made once, many years ago. as harsh and unforgiving as the smiles she was often depicted with used to be, these days leliana has grown to value finding the small joys in life when others would become bitter and withdrawn. of enjoying the creature comforts, of loving to sing and dance and marvel at the beauty of a shoe or a creature often ignored or considered a pest. these two aspects are not mutually exclusive- leliana lives in pain borne just as she is in pain transformed, as many of her faithful do. _“not everything must be an uphill battle,”_ softly calls leliana’s warm voice. _“being kind, and extending a hand with outstretched fingers can be an act of courage, when all you want to do is form a fist with it. take a breath when you're going through your darkest hour, maybe two, and come out singing with me.”_

sten is a deity that many find frustratingly inscrutable, if not impossible to understand. his is a religion that seems to be very rigidly bound to duty and rules and observances and a hierarchy that dominates the conversation of almost everyone who comes across him or his worshippers. and to many, that is all there is. it takes a very determined soul to grow to understand that there is a sort of comfort in routine, in knowing what is expected of you and who you are, in knowing exactly who you can turn to if you question or need help. in sten’s service, you are considered to be undertaking a journey to understand the world in which you live, either writ large, or your own. rigidity can bring comfort, confidence, and a chance for many who had been lost to breathe. it is discovering new things, change, spread out to a pace that is less overwhelming to many for whom change in routines or simple fear would make it daunting. he approves of surpassing expectations, of growing within a box that used to bring you comfort before seeking out one that you yourself have picked out that means you. those with borderline personality disorder and autistics and the abused are common worshippers of him, and he extends a hand right back, just within reach. _“i cannot pull you up,”_ he would say in a voice that sounds as sure and solid as the sun, _“i cannot reach for you. but i am here as a wall to brace against whenever you have need. and in return, you remind me why i have respect for the lost and the heartsick. together, we will find better ways to be.”_

wynne is a quiet diety, one who seemingly performs the functions expected of her and little else, but in truth wynne simply works in quiet ways, helping to inspire quiet victories over troubles large and small. it is known that in her own legends she was a prisoner for many years simply because of a trick of birth. that she lost and lost and lost again, all of her life, and had been tempted to give up just as often. and yet, wynne never gave up on those around her who couldn't speak for themselves. the children and the dead and those who had become too traumatized or afraid to lift their voices any longer. wynne is a warm presence for prisoners and the institutionalized and the disenfranchised just as often as she is for the physically and mentally disabled, and those with any sort of neurodivergences in general. she understands, whispers her worshippers, and she still, always, loves you. _“i cannot save you on my own,”_ she whispers back to those who call her name. _“it is up to you to take the first step and the last and all of the ones in between, but i will be right beside you with my hand in yours. together, we are stronger for each other, and that is how it is meant to be.”_

zevran is dismissed but many who don’t care to look beyond the stereotypes assigned to both him and his worshippers as a harvest deity, one associated with sex and death and glorying in temporary joys. some do indeed turn to him for such things, but that only behind to scratch the surface of all that zevran and his worship are and have become. zevran does indeed preside over death, but just as often the deaths he presides over are more alike to changes. endings that lead to new beginnings, or how one can gradually move from being locked a suicidally depressed state into a journey towards recovery. the death of who who no longer wish to be, and the birth of who you wish so much to become. as often as he is depicted as smiling atop the coins that are both his symbol and currency, his worshippers know that smile to be a sad one, and press that currency into the hands of the abandoned souls who most need it. the orphans and the slaves and those lost to the ravages of their own neurodivergences/trauma. he looks kindly upon those who struggle with relationships ships of any kind after a life where that always meant danger. _“life is full of risks,”_ he murmurs to an orphan warily eyeing their new foster family. _“it is up to you to decide whether those risks are worth it, but you cannot say ‘no’ forever, or one day you will look up and you will be surrounded by high walls with no one left to hear you on the other side, save for me. let me help you, the way others helped me. the way_ _ you helped me, and we will emerge from this together.” _

oghren is defined by contradictions. many see him as a simple god of drink and revelry and battle, of simple pleasures that exact simple joys and sorrows. however, as with many from his pantheon, that is not nearly all that he is. oghren is, first and foremost, a god for those who grieve and those who are afraid. those who turn to alcohol or drugs or other addictive behaviors in order to cope with a life that took and took and took from them, with a life where they are deeply unhappy. he does not judge those he presides over, no matter how often they backslide or break something that may never be fixed again. _“you're mine, and i'm yours,”_ he says to the suffering in a gentle voice many wouldn't think he had. _“and that means that i will stick by you every time you can't reach where you want to go. and you know why? every time you can't quite make it is proof that you can come this far, and can do it again. you are mine, the heart of my own heart, and i will stay with you for as long as you need and want me to. know that_ _ i am proud , and that together, we will see this through.” _

shale is an impatient deity, and one with no patience for insincerity or creating and spreading  cruelty. transgender and nonbinary people in particular turn to the steadying presence of shale in their lives, as do prisoners and the poor imprisoned by society into overwhelmingly literal chains. her comfort can be a stirling thing, as all of her tales whisper of how she moved from one prison to another and so learned distrust and fear externalized as anger. but so, too, did she learn compassion. shale listens just as deeply to a prayer by a child sentenced to prison for a crime that they had no chance to avoid, as she does soldiers who know that the acts they will commit will be frozen in time in their memory _. “everyone is born in a box,”_ shale tells those who ask for her watchful gaze to settle over their shoulder. _"it is up to you to decide whether to stay in it once it becomes painful. i cannot leave it for you, but my voice will rise with yours when you sing a war cry for courage."_

loghain is an old god, and his stories changed along with the shifting values of the societies around him. as they did, his devotion to duty above all else fell out of favor. instead, the tales took on a darker tone of disloyalty and treachery. kingslayer, they called him now. even so, voices still called out to him. soldiers and conquered people, children who have seen war and the furious, wearied people those children grew up to be. “the beat of your heart is the lifesblood of everything that defines you,” says loghain’s voice from between the clench of your fist. _“stronger than blood, stronger than love, stronger than your very bones. do not give it up, or everything you have seen and done will be for nothing. do not give up. i am the hand on your shoulder, the hand clasped in yours. comrade and father and traitor, i am what my duty needs me to be and so are you.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke’s worshippers have schismed again and again and again, to the point that no one can even agree on their diety’s gender, let alone temperament. when you strip away the disagreements and the endless discord, however, you get to the heart of this polarizing deity: hawke is a deity for the lost, in all their forms. those who have lost homes and lovers and parents and siblings, as much as for those who have lost their way. those who are afraid and uncertain and don’t want to -can’t be- strong all the time. hawke is rarely depicted as a person, far more often with symbols - an interwoven, stark heraldry. a length of cloth, tattered and red as blood. a messy smear of blood, replicated by their worshippers across the nose. hawke is strength and protection when you have no one else. hawke is a hand, offered when you can’t stand up on your own. how many times can one person do this? _“at least once more,”_ says a whisper in your ear 

Bethany is a goddess that is hard for many to understand. those people only hear her hymns devoted to hope and kindness and think she is but one more goddess of the hearth and home, easily dismissed. they would be wrong. bethany is worshipped by warriors just as often as she is the abused and forgotten. because beneath the smiles and open hands she is often depicted with, is a core built of heat and determination and a relentless desire to protect what is yours. one does not cancel out the other. bethany’s worshippers know that she is not asking them to forgive and forget, she is asking them to keep going when all you want to do is to give up. put one foot in front of the other and nurture that last bit of hope you have for one more day

Carver is, like his twin, a difficult god for many to parse, easily dismissed as a war god, a god worshipped by those who refuse to follow society’s rules. and they would be missing the truth of him. carver is a god those who want -need- to pave their own path. he is worshipped by transgender people, by those who have no family by choice or by fate and who create their own future. by those who refuse to be defined by someone else. the angry, but also the joyful. offerings to carver are a coin from your first wages at a job no one trusted you to get, let alone keep. a moment from your gender euphoria. a messy drawing by the child you never expected to have. carver is trust in yourself, when no one else has it for you

Aveline is primarily a goddess worshipped by guards and soldiers, but a not insignificant amount of prayers are offered to her by orphans and widows. it is Known that Aveline lost and lost and lost in the days before her ascension. she can be a distant god, hard to understand or even love, but she is a constant. when the world was forged, Aveline was there, and so shall she remain. Aveline is strength and self-reliance and memories held close to your chest because it is no one’s to take before you are ready. images of aveline are often left clasped between the hands of the dead, so that they would always have someone’s hand in theirs 

Varric’s stories often depict him as smiling and confident, a twinkle in his eyes and a crossbow bolt between his fingers. he is a god of artists and storytellers, but more than that, varric is a god of memory. it is Known that in life, varric committed his loves into words so that they would last, would live even when he knew they wouldn’t. he is also turned to when loved ones struggle with pain and addiction and alcoholism or any one of a number of coping mechanisms that once helped but now only hurt and hurt and hurt them and others - he does not judge them or you, and instead is a steady, comforting presence when you feel most alone in a cold world which seems to have left you behind. varric is a god for those who turn their pain on its head, who transform it into light and color and laughter. varric is smiles, and the spaces between them

Hawke’s worshippers have schismed again and again and again, to the point that no one can even agree on their diety’s gender, let alone temperament. when you strip away the disagreements and the endless discord, however, you get to the heart of this polarizing deity: hawke is a deity for the lost, in all their forms. those who have lost homes and lovers and parents and siblings, as much as for those who have lost their way. those who are afraid and uncertain and don’t want to -can’t be- strong all the time. hawke is rarely depicted as a person, far more often with symbols - an interwoven, stark heraldry. a length of cloth, tattered and red as blood. a messy smear of blood, replicated by their worshippers across the nose. hawke is strength and protection when you have no one else. hawke is a hand, offered when you can’t stand up on your own. how many times can one person do this? “at least once more,” says a whisper in your ear 

 

Bethany is a goddess that is hard for many to understand. those people only hear her hymns devoted to hope and kindness and think she is but one more goddess of the hearth and home, easily dismissed. they would be wrong. bethany is worshipped by warriors just as often as she is the abused and forgotten. because beneath the smiles and open hands she is often depicted with, is a core built of heat and determination and a relentless desire to protect what is yours. one does not cancel out the other. bethany’s worshippers know that she is not asking them to forgive and forget, she is asking them to keep going when all you want to do is to give up. put one foot in front of the other and nurture that last bit of hope you have for one more day

 

Carver is, like his twin, a difficult god for many to parse, easily dismissed as a war god, a god worshipped by those who refuse to follow society’s rules. and they would be missing the truth of him. carver is a god those who want -need- to pave their own path. he is worshipped by transgender people, by those who have no family by choice or by fate and who create their own future. by those who refuse to be defined by someone else. the angry, but also the joyful. offerings to carver are a coin from your first wages at a job no one trusted you to get, let alone keep. a moment from your gender euphoria. a messy drawing by the child you never expected to have. carver is trust in yourself, when no one else has it for you

 

Aveline is primarily a goddess worshipped by guards and soldiers, but a not insignificant amount of prayers are offered to her by orphans and widows. it is Known that aveline lost and lost and lost in the days before her ascension. she can be a distant god, hard to understand or even love, but she is a constant. when the world was forged, aveline was there, and so shall she remain. aveline is strength and self-reliance and memories held close to your chest because it is no one’s to take before you are ready. images of aveline are often left clasped between the hands of the dead, so that they would always have someone’s hand in theirs 

 

Varric’s stories often depict him as smiling and confident, a twinkle in his eyes and a crossbow bolt between his fingers. he is a god of artists and storytellers, but more than that, varric is a god of memory. it is Known that in life, varric committed his loves into words so that they would last, would live even when he knew they wouldn’t. he is also turned to when loved ones struggle with pain and addiction and alcoholism or any one of a number of coping mechanisms that once helped but now only hurt and hurt and hurt them and others - he does not judge them or you, and instead is a steady, comforting presence when you feel most alone in a cold world which seems to have left you behind. varric is a god for those who turn their pain on its head, who transform it into light and color and laughter. varric is smiles, and the spaces between them

 

Fenris was initially worshipped as a god of war, but over time that shifted so that now he is known as a god of death and rebirth. the death he represents is often not a physical one, so much as a moment of growth. of deliberately choosing to release the grip your past has upon your present. even if it is hard, and you cannot let it go without leaving claw marks where you wish to hold and remember and understand. because by lingering in a place where discomfort has become comfortable, you cannot grow. your past will remain a part of you, as scars do, but you can turn your eyes to look ahead to the rebirth awaiting you. a spiritual rebirth, of a private meaning. his followers are as much the abused and the enslaved and the survivors as they are the grieving, and all are welcome

 

Anders is infamously known as a polarizing god, one most well known for the wars his followers seem to end up embroiled in, in one way or another. but that is a very simplistic view of him and those who follow him, and a narrow-minded one. anders was initially worshipped as a nurturing god devoted to healing and sacrifice, but over time the sacrificial part of his domain expanded to be that most focused on. this sacrifice is often interpreted by those who misunderstand him by pointing to deaths and discord caused in his name and cite him as a reason to bear down on his worshippers - those who worship him, however, almost to a person, cite that sacrifice as a personal one. of giving up personal comfort and safety and happiness for the greater good. of painting yourself as the monster so that those you wish to protect from harm will be spared. those who remain from his earliest days of worship still remember his symbols of a scarf and a cat and small, patched pillow, symbols of warmth given and warmth treasured in dark times

 

Merrill is, first and foremost, a goddess for those who refuse to give in to the darkness of time and assimilation. worshipped primarily by those from cultures who have been attacked from all sides in all the ways a culture can while still surviving. merrill is a proud goddess, an angry goddess, but neither of those are negatives. she is also a joyful one, rejoicing with her worshippers when they rediscover a piece of their culture, or simply celebrating in it. when you wear jewelry or clothing from your culture or take pride in your lineage or make your foodstuffs, you are singing with her. merrill is a refusal to turn away from the hard task of keeping what is yours when beset on all sides, she is keeping your head high and eyes bright, your soul shining because doing otherwise is no alternative at all

 

Isabela began her life as a goddess as one devoted purely to the sea, but as many of her fellows did, her domain shifted to that of a protector of women. transgender woman and neurodivergent women and disabled women and women of color and abused women all raise their hands to her, and she gives hers back. isabela is cold fury at those who dare bring harm to or degrade her sisters just as she is a warm pair of arms to hold you up when you are alone in a cold world. she understands what it is to have your choices taken from you, and what it is to hide the vulnerability in your heart when that is the only means available to you to protect yourself. isabela is the soft, warm voice beside you whispering to allow yourself to trust when it can be the most terrifying thing in the world. isabela is the hand guiding your fist to the sky when you see your sisters trodden upon. “not today,” comes isabela's rising call. “not anymore.”

Sebastian is a god with two faces. in one of his forms, he is a god of love and pleasure, of taking joy in the present because the future is not certain and certainly not a promise, a god for those who are afraid and find comfort in the warmth of others. this side of sebastian does not judge those who take pleasure in the flesh or in modifying their bodies or in turning away from the roles expected of you, because he knows what it is to refuse a call. sebastian in this face is independence and planting your feet upon the ground. “this is me,” sebastian tells the world before you. “the words i choose define me, not yours.”

 

Sebastian's other face is a god of change. he often has feasts devoted to him at the turning of the seasons (especially autumn), but he is just as easily found in choosing to live by a self-ordained set of rules when your old way of life no longer satisfies. a god who, when faced with loss, redefined what loss means as well as what remains. when faced with restrictions and pain imposed by others, his worshippers find meaning in what remains. asexuals and the chase also turn to him, knowing the choices he himself made in his mortal life, and he welcomes them. sebastian is a god of dichotomies, but those stark differences do not mean that either side of him does not have meaning - on the contrary, both sides are made that much more meaningful by the contrast and how they inform the other. this side of sebastian is also about defining yourself. “you make take my home and my family and everything i thought was true about myself,” sebastian tells all those arrayed before you, “but you cannot take away the heart of me. that determination that drives me forward. i was here before you, and i will be here after you are gone.”

 

Tallis is a goddess of extremes, just as known for laughter with a smile that is all teeth as she is wandering hands that reach for your belt or your throat instead of your hip. she is all anger and stubbornness and a refusal to give into the dark. a goddess for those who look upon the sand presented to them by the world and score, not a line, but a canyon deep within it. cross this line at your peril, tallis tells your enemies. you may have come for people that are not mine, who may not ever know my name or even be grateful, but that doesn't matter. “not one step more,” she roars into the wind, her hand beside yours, just waiting for you to clasp it. she is the hard choice made because it must be, because no one else will

Sebastian is a god with two faces. in one of his forms, he is a god of love and pleasure, of taking joy in the present because the future is not certain and certainly not a promise, a god for those who are afraid and find comfort in the warmth of others. this side of sebastian does not judge those who take pleasure in the flesh or in modifying their bodies or in turning away from the roles expected of you, because he knows what it is to refuse a call. sebastian in this face is independence and planting your feet upon the ground. _“this is me,”_ sebastian tells the world before you. _“the words i choose define me, not yours.”_

Sebastian's other face is a god of change. he often has feasts devoted to him at the turning of the seasons (especially autumn), but he is just as easily found in choosing to live by a self-ordained set of rules when your old way of life no longer satisfies. a god who, when faced with loss, redefined what loss means as well as what remains. when faced with restrictions and pain imposed by others, his worshippers find meaning in what remains. asexuals and the chase also turn to him, knowing the choices he himself made in his mortal life, and he welcomes them. sebastian is a god of dichotomies, but those stark differences do not mean that either side of him does not have meaning - on the contrary, both sides are made that much more meaningful by the contrast and how they inform the other. this side of sebastian is also about defining yourself. _“you make take my home and my family and everything i thought was true about myself,”_ sebastian tells all those arrayed before you, _“but you cannot take away the heart of me. that determination that drives me forward. i was here before you, and i will be here after you are gone.”_

Tallis is a goddess of extremes, just as known for laughter with a smile that is all teeth as she is wandering hands that reach for your belt or your throat instead of your hip. she is all anger and stubbornness and a refusal to give into the dark. a goddess for those who look upon the sand presented to them by the world and score, not a line, but a canyon deep within it. cross this line at your peril, tallis tells your enemies. you may have come for people that are not mine, who may not ever know my name or even be grateful, but that doesn't matter. _“not one step more,”_ she roars into the wind, her hand beside yours, just waiting for you to clasp it. she is the hard choice made because it must be, because no one else will


End file.
